


Ass Coffee

by Townycod13



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, Soulmate AU, THE RAPTORS WILL DEVOUR, fandombingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 00:38:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16566254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Townycod13/pseuds/Townycod13
Summary: "How the hell would you know what Britney's ass tastes like?"





	Ass Coffee

The first time he sees the orange blob, it’s across a busy cafe with a million voices speaking all at once. There’s such a rush for caffeine, the lifeblood of your average working adult, that Kyle almost misses the words amid the rabble.

“ _This coffee tastes like Britney Spears’ ass._ ”

It’s not directed at him or at anyone in the vicinity so far as Kyle can tell but he’s immediately darting his gaze around, trying to tell which patron had spoken, how close they were, what they _looked_ like.

This shit was _important_ but his only clue is the voice was muffled and something orange and bundled is out the door before he can see his face.

Kyle checks his arm, hoping against hope that the words he’d learned to read before his own damn name were still engraved on his wrist.

He’s met with the fading pink as the words disappear into his blood, his body, his soul, and he has to swallow the knowledge that _that was it_.

That was all he’d ever hear of his soul mate.

His entire life spent wondering how or when or _why_ those would be the first words someone spoke to him and it was just the murmur of a passerby.

Was this some kind of fucking joke?

Maybe they would have met at a concert, and some breath-takingly witty individual would casually bump his arm and make the tasteless joke, causing Kyle’s breath to drain away.

Or maybe it would be at a meeting where the company provided coffee was so terrible it required comedy to make tolerable, and the tired employee would make eye-contact and Kyle could respond with whatever words were engraved on their arm.

Maybe he would go to a coffee shop and ask the barista and they would have a scathing review of their stores on coffee. Kyle would laugh and they could exchange numbers and he’d go there every morning for his coffee, falling more and more in love.

No.

It wasn’t any of those things.

It was a passing fucking comment from a random fucking stranger who had not _once_ bothered to look back.

Kyle had _comebacks_ planned. He knew how he was going to reply to the retort, he knew it better than his own damn age. A number that would become increasingly distant under the stress of work if not for his mothers _constant reminders_ that he didn’t _need_ to marry his soul mate, he could just find a nice person with a _good job_ and obviously they should be Jewish, and oh, had he met this great doctor from North Park. They would be a perfect fit.

He couldn’t even snap out of it when the barista asked for his order, still staring in numb horrified shock that his _one true love_ . The one he was supposed to _wait for and look for_ , the person he’d spent his _entire fucking life hyping over_ (sans a few emotionally turbulent years in high school when he’d decided the whole thing must be a scam because Leslie Meyers _had_ to be his soul mate)---- _the person he’d been looking for his entire life had walked out the door and Kyle wasn’t even sure which person it was_.

The sea of faces all looked queasily similar, none of them shown out in the crowd like the movies said they should.

His heart didn’t awaken for the first time.

It was just a fucking miserable Wednesday morning on another miserable work week where his cubicle mate was going to make another humpday joke because that’s what Donvan did _every fucking Wednesday_ and Kyle was going to go to work and drink his ass-coffee.

 _He only went to this stupid coffee shop because the coffee was terrible_.

He could cry.

He wasn’t going to.

Somewhere in his hind-brain, his body had learned the simple rules of society. Wake, caffeine, work, sleep, rinse, and repeat.

So that’s precisely what he did like the zombie masquerading as a human he felt like.

Coffee in hand and mind a million miles south of sane, he was on his way to hear a joke about hump-day that was going to be painful _because his soul mate was nowhere and nothing would ever be okay again_.

\--

It’s retrospect that often makes drama seem less viable of a coping method.

Kyle spends far more time staring at the roof Friday morning than any person ought to. Wednesday sucked, Thursday was a mess.

 _Friday I’m in love_ treacherously sings in his head and it makes his head ache with exhausted finality.

He should give up on the whole soulmate thing once and for all. Listen to his mom and go on a date with--what was the latest one?--the psychologist she’d been recommending.

Yeah. No. Last fucking thing on the goddamn planet he needed was someone finding a way to pry into his brain. He had more than enough of his own damn mind asking him questions, he didn’t need it externally as well.

It was thirty minutes before Kyle turned off his now blaring alarm and he was sure the neighbors would complain but they could go die in a ditch.

Denver was ass cold this time of year and he was grumpy.

He honestly considered taking the day off work. What would it matter? What did any of it matter? He would never find love or happiness, he was destined to have strangers look at his blank wrist and ask him _how long they’d been together_ and _what was his significant other like_.

How could Kyle even begin to answer questions like that? Lie?

He pulled back the curtain to stare out his shitty apartment window onto the shitty Denver streets but they didn’t offer any reprieve. Just the continued knowledge of loneliness and his hatred of continuing to--

The second time he saw the orange blob was in this moment. He was sure, somehow, even from this distance, that it was the same orange parka of one of the many departing patrons.

He thought of the muffled sound and sprinted to his front door before any common sense could weasel its way back into his thoughts.

The door hit him on the way out, the stares scraped his bare feet, his heart throbbed with the _chance_ he was presented with and he burst out of the front of his building.

Wherever the figure in orange had been headed, it was clearly not on this street.

And Kyle accepted, cold, barefoot, and in his damn pajamas, that even if he’d caught up to the blob, there was no guarantee he was disturbingly knowledgeable about Britney’s ass.

\--

“You know what, Stan? I think I’m done.”

_“Uh-huh.”_

“Why the fuck would I want to date someone who made such crude jokes about a celebrities ass, anyway? That’s stupid. This whole fucking system is stupid.”

_“Yeah.”_

“And if the asshole doesn’t fucking care enough to _turn around_ instead of talking to himself like some creepy loner loser than it’s his damn loss!”

_“Great.”_

“I’m a fucking catch, goddamnit! I could have anyone I want, I don’t need to wait for some ridiculous destiny crap to catch up with me!”

_“Uh-huh.”_

“Are you even listening?”

_“Look, dude, it sucks that your soul mate passed you by but honestly, you’ve said pretty much all of this before.”_

Kyle huffed indignantly, holding the phone away from his face to snarl at it before he managed to calm himself down. “This isn’t about Leslie!”

_“I know it’s not, but you just go through these cycles where soul mates are either the single most romantic thing ever or the worst thing ever conceived of and I’m just a bit exhausted dude.”_

Stan, who met his soulmate at a young and was happily married, did _not_ get a say in this. Kyle was quite sure of that.

Instead of the million biting remarks he would have liked to use on his long time friend, he just hung up the phone.

It was probably better for both of them that way. Kyle would just regret anything biting he said.

Tiredly he downloaded a dating app. He browsed through three different profiles before hurredly deleting it.

Something about reading repeated declarations of _looking for my soulmate ;P_ and _only contact me if you haven’t found your soulmate_ and a litany of other _stupid_ —

Stan was right, he was cycling back to his previous attitude. This wasn’t going to help him get over it, it wasn’t going to help him move on, and it certainly wasn’t going to help him solve anything.

His phone buzzed and of course it was another text from his mother-- _how the hell did she manage to mention his age in the fucking first sentence—_ with a plea to reconsider.

Kyle sighed into his hands and pulled back his hair.

He couldn’t do this.

He opened youtube and watched a mindlessly long playlist of cute animals compilations Stan had sent him.

Of course Stan couldn’t just send him kitten videos, no, that was last month. This month was every rodent on earth pretending to be a pet because _people are insane_ —

Kyle paused a video about a little girl calling a possum her precious trash baby. The corner of the screen had the slightest view of a familiar shade of orange.

The third time Kyle saw the saw the orange blob was only the sleeve and on a video with absolutely no credits given to the original content and was he _really_ sure it was the same orange? It couldn’t possibly be, that would be like _destiny_ and—

Kyle rested his phone at his side and groaned.

He was seeing it everywhere because he _wanted_ to see it everywhere. He wanted to pretend there was some grander scheme which would somehow pull them together and it was completely delusional. If he kept this up he would end up with a chart board of orange parka sightings and a lot of red string.

Not an attractive look in his honest opinion.

He lifted his phone again and shot his mother a message.

 _If you give him my number, I’ll text back_.

That was about all he could manage at this point.

\--

It started simple.

_hey, ur mom gave me your number?_

Kyle snorted. It was stupidly awkward but he’d honestly be amazed at anyone who could start a conversation from these beginnings without coming off at least a little dumb.

_Yeah. She does that._

Kyle didn’t even think about the response. Why bother being charming? It was just some schmuck his mom was trying to force down his throat.

_ohshit, did she not ask ur permission first? Rip_

Kyle’s snort was something closer to a laugh this time and he had to marvel at that. It was simultaneously concerned and unconcerned. Casual.

Not what he’d come to expect from his mother's suitors, if he’s honest.

_No, she asked. I’ve just given up fighting back._

He put away the phone at that, whatever Harvard grad fuckboy his mom had sent his way could wait for his next response while he boiled some water for much needed coffee.

After all, what was the point in even going to coffee shops anymore? It all tasted like ass.

By the time he returned to the phone there were three messages.

_ooph that sucks._

_If its any consolation I commend u for managing to fight back at all. No offense, but ur mom is hella intense_

_oh btw off topic but tea or coffee?_

Kyle blinked slowly, sipped his not horrid concoction and shrugged. Somehow managed to get the topic off of his mom, probably a good move if he’s honest.

_Why do you ask?_

The response was quick. Kyle suspected he’d pre-written the response.

_taking a census cuz reasons_

Kyle abandoned his coffee in favor of typing faster.

_Well that’s vague as fuck, what reasons?_

He wasn't left waiting.

_trying to win an argument with my lil sis_

Kyle did laugh. It was so fucking stupid. This guy was stupid. This conversation was stupid.

But it was such a nice release from the despair of being alone forever, miserably swimming in his own filthy worthlessness.

He let himself get lost in it, the simple back and forth with a simple person who was just giving him time.

Something his own damn soul mate apparently couldn’t spare. Too busy drinking his coffee to pay any goddamn attention to the world around him.

Maybe his mom was right, he should give someone else a chance. Besides, this guy had an easy-going charm to him that Kyle found cute.

\--

The fourth time Kyle saw the orange blob it was being shucked off of an attractive blond man who looked around the restaraunt only briefly before making his way over to Kyle’s table, smile sheepish and apologies for being late on his lips.

Kyle couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t be blamed for this either. It was fucking unacceptable.

“You motherfucking Britney loving asshole.” He spat, lovely first words for a first date.

Kenny McCormick, his date, paused mid-step to give him a somewhat dumbfounded expression before checking that, yes, the marks on his wrist were fading.

“Huh, well,” Kenny smiled sheepishly, “Wasn’t really expecting that.”


End file.
